The Broken Land
by Angelina Sparrow
Summary: I changed the story in the fellowship of the Ring to accomodate a love interest for Frodo. Very sweet and could be a tear-jerker.
1. Chapter 1

  
  
_ "The world is changed...  
  
I feel it in the water...  
  
I feel it in the earth...  
  
I smell it in the air..."  
  
** The Broken Land  
**  
Part 1: Dreams  
  
Chapter 1  
_  
_Frodo walked in a forest. He could hear creatures hurrying from view as he  
passed them, watching his dark form with black, unblinking eyes.  
  
But these sounds were not the ones that were puzzling him and had caused him to come. There was an ominous howl that rose from the black night. Not  
a howl that was made by any wolf or wild dog, although those were  
foreboding enough. This one was different; it shattered the warm summer night like dry lightning and sent a chill up Frodo's spine like no animal's  
voice could do.  
  
He could tell that it held so much more. It made him feel a sense of dread  
mixed with sadness, fear, anger, a feeling of hopelessness, of  
helplessness. He had never felt a sensation like this before. The Ring  
burned his skin beneath his shirt, his Hobbit curls were tossed in a  
powerful wind that did not touch anything else in the forest.  
  
A real fear clenched his chest and he immediately wanted to turn, to run away and never come back to this place. His eyes darted back and forth like a deer trying to decide the safest path: the one with four hunters or the one with a blazing fire at the end. His mind wheeled and he started to feel  
light headed. Still, the howl drew him on.  
  
He found the end of the trees and realized that the howl was being made by the whipping wind, but that was beside the point now. Straight in front of him, forever wreathed in blazing fire, was the Eye of Sauron. It rolled in  
its socket and came to rest on Frodo's face.  
  
The Ring became red hot...  
  
There was a shriek...  
  
Frodo's head swam and he crumpled to the ground...  
_  
"Mister Frodo. Mister Frodo? Wake up Master!" Sam shook Frodo. For the past fifteen minutes Frodo had been alternating between flailing his entire body  
around and becoming rigidly still.  
  
Pippin and Merry watched anxiously. Frodo's condition had been worsening  
each day that they had been traveling. Ever since they had faced the  
Wraiths on Amon Sul.  
  
Finally Frodo jerked awake and sat up, breathing laboriously.  
  
"What was it Mister Frodo? What happened?"  
  
Frodo didn't answer immediately, letting himself calm down. It had been a dream, nothing more. But it had seemed so real, the howling, the forest, the... He shivered involuntarily. The Great Eye, with a slit for a pupil, like a cat or a snake. He could feel the flames on his cheek. He reached into his shirt and drew out the Ring, but had to quickly release it because  
it was still scorching.  
  
"Nothing, Sam. It was only a dream."  
  
"Here Frodo, take a drink." Pippin handed him a canteen and Frodo took it  
in shaking hands. He ran a hand through his hair and found that it was  
matted with sweat.  
  
Sam's cool hand found Frodo's forehead and he said, "Frodo, you're burning  
up. You can't go on like this."  
  
Merry stepped aside and Strider knelt down beside Frodo. He put his hand on the Ring and drew it away quickly. "The Ring burns. Sauron knows that Frodo is weakened and is trying to drive him into becoming his servant through  
both the Morgul blade and Frodo's dreams. He will stop at neither  
wakefulness nor sleep. We must press on faster."  
  
"But Strider! He's sick! Can't you see he'll die if we try to move  
faster?!" Merry had been following this strange man because Frodo had assured him that it was safe, but he would not tolerate him dragging Frodo  
across the land without proper healing.  
  
"Patience, Master Meriadoc, I beg you! Patience!" Strider's tone was icy as he tried to keep his patience with the Hobbit. "I will get him to the Lord Elrond as fast as I am able to!" Strider gathered Frodo, who had lain back in his bed of blankets with his eyes closed and muttering things under his breath, into his arms as he said this and started out of their campsite.  
  
Merry snorted in defiance, followed begrudgingly and fell silent for the  
first few hours' journey.  
  
Around midday, Strider stopped and laid Frodo down. He had fallen back into a fevered sleep and occasionally been heard to call out Gandalf's name. Sam  
felt his brow and looked to the others.  
  
"He's getting worse."  
  
"Stay here and try to wake him. I'm going to find some more athelas for his wound; it seemed to be working to slow the poison." With a slight nod, he  
left the three Hobbits to tend Frodo.  
  
Only a few minutes later, bells were heard. The soft clip clop of a horse's  
feet and a sharp whistle.  
  
_His vision was swimming and that horrible howling had come back. An Eye started to take shape in front of him and the Ring heated up. Frodo looked,  
but could see no escape or place to hide. He knew in his heart that he could not hide from the Dark Lord's sight no matter what he was behind or  
under.  
  
All of a sudden, a white burst of light drown out the Eye and Frodo beheld the fairest woman he had ever seen. She was clad in white with hair that was like spun gold. Her face glowed with unseen radiance. Frodo gasped and felt as though he should kneel to this heavenly creature. Surely she was an angel come to take him away from the land of the living at last. But she  
did not.  
_  
She dismounted and dropped to his side. Her horse shied from Frodo, but she had no need to tie it up. As the horse stepped, Frodo fancied he heard a soft tinkle of bells. The woman's eyes were concerned and she felt his brow as Sam had done so many times. Her hand was like velvet and Frodo seemed to  
calm. She whispered to him in a tongue he did not understand.  
  
She was an Elf and she had been sent from Elrond to meet them. Frodo sensed what she was saying, he knew what she was saying, but failed understand her  
speech, nonetheless.  
  
Carefully, she gathered him into her arms and sat him atop her horse. She  
turned and Frodo heard a man's voice that he could not remember who it belonged to... there were others as well, he couldn't recall anyone...he  
felt lost, confused.  
  
Then he heard the woman again, she spoke in labored Westeron, as if it was  
a foreign tongue for her. "Frodo, I am Aratári. I will help you."  
  
Frodo vaguely became aware of his voice talking. He muttered, "I shall not  
remember that. Let me call you by something I will remember: Lissimîr"  
  
She smiled and spoke as only he could hear, "As you wish."  
  
Then his head begun to swim and he started to fall...  
  
Something broke his fall and steadied him...  
  
The ground began to move and he heard a shriek of a Ringwraith...  
  
"Fly!" Strider called, "Fly! They are upon us!"  
  
Aratári urged her horse forward and drug herself on and as it obeyed. The Wraiths followed her and she rode as fast as she dared with Frodo clinging  
feebly to the saddle.  
  
They rode over the last stretch of land between them and Rivendell. The  
River Bruinin was calm for today, but its waters burbled with mounting  
ferocity as the Wraiths approached.  
  
Aratári dismounted and stepped towards the shore where the sinister figures stood. She spoke in a clear voice that rang throughout the river valley, "Frodo is under the protection of the Elves! Go and follow him no more!"  
  
She brandished her sword and the Ringwraiths hissed and spat at her, urging  
their horses into the water.  
  
Frodo watched the proceedings dimly and half aware of what was actually happening. He was startled when the waves of the river came crashing around the bend, in the shape of horses, and swallowed the Nazgul up. They were carried downstream, shrieking. His head pounded with the noise and he felt  
that he was falling again.  
  
Aratári saw and ran to him. He hit the lake bed before she could come to  
him. "Frodo! Frodo! No! You can make it, Rivendell's just around the  
corner! You're going to live! Don't let them overcome you!" She was  
helpless to stop him as he fell into her arms, unconscious.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well, there's the first chapter! Hope you like!

Please R/R!


	2. Chapter 2

  
  
"Much that once was is lost...for none now live who remember it..."  
  
Part 1: Dreams  
  
Chapter 2  
  
A glaring light shone and Frodo squinted his eyes against it irritably. He  
was in a forest again, but not a sinister one like that in which he had seen the Eye. This was a forest of Elves. Although he couldn't see them, he could feel them. He knew Lissimîr was there, his sweet jewel. She was an  
angel that had helped him. A guardian angel, that was all. He convinced himself of that. But he couldn't get rid of the nagging feeling that she  
was in the leafy forest.  
  
He came to a clearing and saw Elves dancing and singing in many unknown tongues and he sat on the mossy ground to listen to their lilting voices and rich notes. Their dance seemed as free as the wind and there were no  
apparent right steps. Frodo was offered wine and food and he took it  
gratefully. He was unnaturally hungry for a Hobbit and didn't know why  
exactly.  
  
As the wine went to his head, he tried to join in the dance, but he fumbled  
and the Fair Folk around him laughed jovially.  
  
It was all so pleasant, but it didn't seem right...  
  
The howl had come back, first just a buzzing in his ears every now and  
then, but now it had grown and Frodo could no longer hear the music and  
singing. He tried to leave, but the Eye drew him to it....  
  
The Ring...  
  
It was scorching his skin...  
  
The Ring...  
  
Frodo woke and saw four faces hovered over him, all wearing expressions of  
great apprehensiveness. Two were familiar...  
  
Sam, his faithful Sam. And Gandalf, his old friend.  
  
Another was familiar...  
  
His sweet jewel, Aratári. The angel who saved him.  
  
How had he begun to call her Lissimîr? Sweet jewel? He didn't even know who  
she was.  
  
His shoulder ached dimly and his head whirled in a dazed, light way.  
  
Who was the other? A man...Elf by the looks of it. Was he Elrond? Yes he  
was.  
  
"Frodo. How are you? It is good to see you awake. We had thought you'd sleep forever." Gandalf chuckled and Frodo rolled over in his giant bed to see him better. The last time he had seen the wizard was when he had left  
for Bree. How long ago was that? And what did Gandalf mean when he said that they'd thought he would sleep forever? How long had he been asleep?  
  
"By the kindness of Elrond, Half-Elven, you will be beginning to heal."  
  
Elrond nodded slightly to Frodo and he looked to Gandalf, nodded, looked to  
Aratári, and nodded yet again. "Now that you are on the mend, Frodo  
Baggins, I must attend to my business that I left when you were brought here. Good day all." With a swift turn and a billow of his robes, Elrond  
left Frodo's bedchamber.  
  
Frodo looked down at his hand that was lying on the sheets. Sam had not taken his hand off of his since he woke. Sam seemed to be in too much shock  
and happiness to say anything. He finally murmured "Mister Frodo! Bless you! You're awake!" He was beaming and quickly left to get a tray of food  
that was set out on a nearby table.  
  
While he was gone, Aratári leaned down and smiled at Frodo. "I knew that  
you would make it." She patted his hand.  
  
Frodo smiled, "Thank you, Aratári. I wouldn't have gotten here if not for  
you."  
  
"What happened to Lissimîr? I've quite grown accustomed to it, only if I've heard it just a few times." A playful smile lit her face for a second, then  
vanished as Sam bustled over with the food.  
  
"Now, Frodo, I want you to eat. You ain't had nothing like a proper meal  
for at least a week!" He shadowed and hung over Frodo until he was  
satisfied with how much Frodo had eaten, and then lifted the tray.  
  
Gandalf smiled at Sam as the Hobbit tried to hide a yawn. "Get some rest  
Sam, Frodo is going to be alright now."  
  
Sam didn't look very convinced, but Frodo interjected anything he was going to say, "Sam, Gandalf's right. I'll be fine. Go and take a hot bath and get  
some sleep. I don't know how long you've been here, but you seem tired enough just from what I've seen. Go on, I'll be fine." Sam heaved a sigh  
and left, nearly tripping over his own feet in his tiredness.  
  
Gandalf rose from his chair beside Frodo's bed and looked to both him and  
Aratári, "I think I'll turn in for an hour or so as well, I'm really  
devilish sleepy." He winked at Frodo and left.  
  
Aratári took Gandalf's seat and leaned her head back. "Sleep some more if  
you need to. We shouldn't just leave you alone though. I'll stay."  
  
"I think I've had enough sleep to last me for a while," Frodo said with a  
chuckle that turned into a small gasp as a pain stabbed in from his  
shoulder.  
  
Aratári sat upright and looked to him, "Are you alright?"  
  
"Yes, just a pain in my shoulder. I wonder why?"  
  
She took a deep breath and said quietly, "You must not remember. You were  
stabbed in the shoulder by the Witch King of the Nazgul and you were becoming a Wraith as I brought you here. You were slipping into the shadow  
world." Frodo's face darkened and he recalled it now.  
  
"Yes, I remember." He shuddered.  
  
"Cold?"  
  
"No, the memory...it isn't the most pleasant thing in the world."  
  
"Memories never usually are."  
  
"Why do you say that?"  
  
"Oh memories can be of good things or bad. Most times, you usually remember the bad things and not the good. But even good memories can stir up pain."  
  
"I see. You are right," He hesitated. His heart wanted to add 'Lissimîr', but his mind argued that she was and Elf...he was just a Hobbit. Quietly,  
he added, "Lissimîr."  
  
He could see a smile play on her features. She really is very beautiful, he  
thought. But his sensible side of his mind reminded him again of his  
status. It seemed to be loosing the battle with his heart.  
  
Suddenly nervous, he absently ran his hand through his curls. His hair  
wasn't damp with sweat like the last time he woke from a dream, but his hand was clammy. He shook his head to try to clear out his fighting mind and heart. Trying to gain any time, he asked, "How old are you? I've heard  
that Elves don't look their age, but surly you cannot be past your  
twenties?"  
  
Her laughter sounded like bells to his ears and they hungrily drank up every note of it that they could. "Oh that you would understand how old I really am. I am far older that you or your dear uncle. Your grandfather or  
your grandfather's father even." She shook her head and laughed again.  
  
Frodo's heart gave a lurch and he knew that his sensible mind had lost the  
battle with his heart for her.  
  



	3. chapter 3

  
  
"It began with the forging of the Great Rings..."  
  
Part 1: Dreams  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Frodo felt foolish as she laughed and he could feel his ears turning pink.  
She seemed to be mocking him the more she laughed. He hung his head and  
stared at his coverlet. Aratári saw and stopped laughing.  
  
"Dear Frodo, I was only laughing at the prospect of me being twenty. I  
would be merely a child." She smiled reassuringly.  
  
Frodo cheered a bit remembering that he himself was 55, but looked only  
thirty. Hobbits do not age very fast, most lived to be at least 100.  
  
They passed an hour talking freely of common interests of Elves and Hobbits. Frodo was very glad that they got along so well. It seemed as if  
he were talking to his lifelong best friend, not an Elf that he had met only a short while ago. And, he thought, had fallen for the moment he saw  
her face.  
  
They were in the middle of telling riddles when Bilbo showed up at the  
door. At first, neither noticed the old Hobbit and they continued.  
  
"When I eat I live, but when I drink I die. What am I?" Frodo loved this riddle because it stumped so many people that he told it to. Aratári looked puzzled and sat in silence thinking for a few minutes. Bilbo interjected,  
"You are a flame, of course."  
  
Frodo looked up, startled. "Bilbo?"  
  
"Frodo, my lad!" Bilbo came to Frodo's bed and shook his hand. "Glad to see you! Well, I've seen a lot of you, but you haven't seen me. I've sat here  
with you every day since you came." Frodo just smiled, happy to see his  
uncle again. "I see you've met Aratári. She has the post of reading my songs before I sing them to the Elves. She makes them good enough to let  
the House of Elrond hear."  
  
"I hardly touch them! You are the one who writes such wonderful songs in the first place!" She smiled at Bilbo and clapped him on the back lightly.  
  
"Yes, yes, thank you." He turned to Frodo and sat on the edge of his bed.  
"I trust that you will be at the feast?"  
  
"Feast?"  
  
"Yes, to celebrate your arrival here. You held the fates of all of these  
Elves when you brought the Ring here.  
  
Frodo nodded, "Then I shall be there, won't I?"  
  
"Well, we shall see, my boy. I just popped in to check on you. Sam told me you were up before he fell asleep. Poor boy, he wouldn't sleep until you woke up." Bilbo got up and walked towards the door, then stopped and turned to Frodo, "See you at the feast then." Bilbo left, singing a Hobbit walking song, which progressed louder to an Elvish song that Frodo had not heard  
before.  
  
Aratári chuckled lightly and said, "Charming Hobbit, in a funny,  
grandfatherly way." She seemed to snap suddenly back to what they were talking about before Bilbo came in, "Where were we? Ah, yes. It was flame, as Bilbo answered for me." She thought for a bit to come up with a riddle,  
but could not. "I'm all out of riddles," she confessed.  
  
"I am too."  
  
"What shall we talk about now? "  
  
"I don't know."  
  
An uneasy silence passed between them and Frodo became dimly aware of the sounds around him. There were Elvish voices from many parts of the building in which he stayed. He could hear Merry and Pippin not too far off as well.  
The thing that seemed the loudest was his heart pounding in his ears.  
  
His shoulder was beginning to ache again. He rubbed it absently, trying to  
ease the tension that was building up.  
  
Aratári saw this and got up out of the chair and brought a paste mixture  
and set it down on the table beside Frodo's bed. She sat on the bed and lightly touched his shoulder, seeming to ask if she could help him. Frodo's heart fluttered and he nodded slowly. Carefully, she rubbed his shoulder, loosing the muscles. Frodo closed his eyes in contentment. Her touch was so  
gentle and sure...  
  
"Here, I have to put this on your wound so that it will close properly. It isn't a normal cut that you sustained." Frodo nodded and his heart sped up as she eased down the shoulder of his nightshirt and proceeded to rub the mixture in. It was cool and smooth and it seemed to melt into his stab mark and pulse through his body, renewing strength. "How are you feeling now?"  
she asked as she took another finger full of the paste and started  
massaging it in.  
  
"I'm feeling a lot better than I was." Frodo said, breathlessly. His voice was a mere whisper. His throat had tightened up and made it difficult to  
say anything at all. His head was spinning and his blood pumped in his  
ears, this was all too much.  
  
"Good." She didn't seem to notice anything unusual about Frodo's tone of voice, but if she did, she didn't show it. "We need to keep this stuff on your shoulder for it to heal. I'm supposed to put it on whenever you say  
that it is uncomfortable."  
  
Frodo could only nod. Aratári finished and set the bowl over on a counter across the room. "I think I can leave you alone for just a bit. The paste is supposed to make you drowsy. I have to finish some things, but I'll be  
back later to check in on you." She turned to leave.  
  
"Wait!" Frodo called and she walked back to his bedside. He took her fragile hand in his own and smiled. "Thank you, Lissimîr." He brought his lips to her hand and felt a tingle go down his spine. She flushed pink and  
hurried from the room.  
  
He sat by her side, dangling his feet in the water. She was laughing, but  
Frodo didn't know what had made her laugh.  
  
The day was clear and the water clearer. It was cool and refreshing; he waded out further into the stream and splashed about. He saw a pearly shell and dove under. Coming up, he spluttered a little and shook out his hair, spraying her with water. She laughed even more. His clothes were soaked and  
he attempted to wring his shirt and pant legs out a bit.  
  
Frodo pulled himself back onto the bank and handed her the shell, which she  
took gratefully.  
  
There was a picnic spread a little ways off and she went and sat down,  
patting the ground beside her for him to come and sit as well.  
  
Getting up from the shore, he looked into the water briefly and caught sight of something glowing below some weeds. Deciding to have a quick look before he ate, he called to her, "Wait there! I think I see something. I'll be right back!" He dove down to the thing and pulled the weeds away. There, glowing with a fire that couldn't be put out by water, was the Great Eye that had haunted his past dreams. It seemed to pull him down to the bottom  
of the lake bed.  
  
The Ring felt like a weight...  
  
It started to smoke in the water...  
  
His lungs screamed for breath...  
  
A hand grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him up...  
  
Distantly someone was calling his name...  
  



End file.
